


Chasing Visions

by liamthebastard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Stiles left, Derek's been a mess. And when Stiles comes back for the Sheriff's wedding, things get even worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Visions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beeabumblebitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeabumblebitch/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Brenna! She wanted an angsty fic based on Youth by Daughter.

_**One Year Ago** _

“Dude, we’ve gotta RSVP for Dad’s wedding, Lydia is gonna kill me if we don’t send it back on time,” Stiles said, sliding the invitation across the breakfast table. Derek glanced down. 

“Why didn’t I get an invite?” Derek asked as he took a bite of his toast. 

Stiles sighed. “Because Lydia was on a budget, and knew you’d be my plus-one, because the pack knows about us even if we haven’t said anything, so she saved on paper by sending just the one,” Stiles explained. “Now do you want chicken or fish?”

Derek checked chicken on the invite and slid it back to Stiles. “I always figured your dad would prefer steak,” Derek said. 

“He tried, Melissa and I shut him down,” Stiles said proudly. Derek laughed and caught Stiles hand when he reached out to retrieve the invitation. He brought it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles gently. 

“His cholesterol’s doing a lot better since she moved in,” Derek mumbled. “Why are they waiting so long for the wedding?” 

Stiles laughed. “Either they’re afraid of me and Scott being brothers -which _is_ terrifying, I’ll grant- or they want me to be done with school before they do the wedding,” Stiles said. 

Derek took a moment to realize that Scott and Stiles would now be legal brothers as well as best-friends-may-as-well-be brothers. God, that was terrifying. While he was thinking, Stiles saw the clock and squawked. 

“ _Shit!_ I’m gonna be late,” Stiles shouted, flying up out of his seat. “Love you, bye,” Stiles said, pecking a kiss to Derek’s lips and sprinting for the door. 

“Love you, too,” Derek said, “Don’t forget your bag!” Stiles had already rocketed out the door, but sprinted back, grabbed his backpack, and gave a jaunty wave as he ran back out the door. Derek shook his head, and went back to doing his crossword. 

_**Four Months Ago** _

Derek rolled over in bed, quelling the instinct to reach out onto the other side of his bed. No one would be there. Hadn’t been there for months, and wouldn’t be there ever again. So he might as well get used to it. 

But he couldn’t sleep. His body was restless, his mind troubled. He sat up, giving up on sleep for the night, and flicked on the light. Light spread onto the bed, casting shadows onto the wrinkled bedcovers and into the dip in the mattress where Stiles used to sleep. 

He sighed, and climbed out of bed. Might as well get some paperwork done while he was awake. The Sheriff had mentioned just the other day that he was impressed by how quickly Derek was getting his paperwork in, most of the other deputies were weeks behind on theirs. Derek hadn’t had the heart to tell him why. 

Once upon a time, Stiles had spent every weekend at Derek’s house, curled up in his bed, on his couch, doing homework on his breakfast table. It had kept Derek from doing his paperwork nine times out of ten. 

What was it people said, about there being a silver lining in every storm cloud? 

Those people were full of shit. 

_**Now** _

Derek has never been this uncomfortable in his life. He’s in a full suit he hasn’t worn since Allison and Scott got married, and, unlike then, he doesn’t have Stiles beside him to laugh and jokingly ‘straighten’ his bowtie as prelude to fantastic sex in the bathroom that Scott can't prove ever happened, but _still_ won’t forgive him for. 

He takes a breath. Instead of hiding outside the chapel, he needs to go in and see the Sheriff’s wedding. Just because Stiles is going to be there, standing up front looking even more gorgeous than usual as the best man, doesn’t mean Derek can keep hiding outside. He needs to be calm. He waits for a group of people whom he vaguely recognizes as doctors and nurses from numerous visits to the ER -a surprising number of which were non-werewolf related, Stiles just had a tendency to injure himself- and walks in with them, taking a seat near the back where hopefully no one will spot him. 

The ceremony begins shortly after Derek sits down, and he can see Lydia’s influence across the board. Everything goes off without a hitch, and both bride and groom are ecstatic. And if Derek deliberately refuses to look further to one side than Sheriff Stilinski, that’s his problem and not anyone else’s. Melissa’s crying long before they say their vows, and as the Sheriff promises to love her for as long as they both shall live, his eyes are damp. Derek subtly wipes his eyes free of the tears. The couple kiss, and the whole church cheers, but no one louder than Stiles and Scott. Derek tries to hide the twinge of pain he feels when he hears Stiles’s overjoyed whoops. He’d sounded exactly the same the day of Scott’s wedding, only then immediately after cheering he’d tugged Derek behind a decorative shrub and kissed him until they were both breathless. 

Derek hangs back a few minutes after everyone leaves for the reception to make sure he doesn’t run into any of the wedding party before he’s ready. Once he’s sure they’ve all cleared out, he heads for the car and drives to the Sheriff’s house, where they’re having the reception in the backyard. He’ll just slip in, watch them cut the cake, congratulate the couple, then slip out before he and Stiles run into each other. 

When he arrives though, he realizes he shouldn’t have counted on an open-house style reception. Not with Lydia Martin planning things. Instead of the casual barbecue he’d anticipated from knowing the Sheriff for nearly eight years, the entire backyard has been transformed into the perfect wedding reception complete with twinkle lights and tables set with -god _damm_ it Lydia- placecards dictating where each guest should sit. And of course, since he’d RSVPed with Stiles, and they haven’t exactly gotten around to telling anyone about the breakup yet, _of course_ he’s slated to sit with Stiles. 

Great. 

*

Stiles is so nervous he’s practically buzzing out of his skin. His dad and Melissa are due to arrive any minute, how everyone seemed to beat them here from the chapel is beyond him. And the moment they arrive, everyone will sit down. And he’ll have to sit down. Next to Derek. Because no one know’s they’ve broken up. And of course, Derek’s been avoiding him all day. At the wedding, the man had sat in the very back, and then when Stiles had waited outside to try and talk to him, he hadn’t come out. 

Now, said werewolf is skulking by the gate, pretending not to see Stiles, and Stiles is talking to Scott about how cool it is that their parents are finally married and pretending not to see Derek. Finally, Stiles laughs off a joke Scott tells, and announces that he’s going for a smoke. He sees Derek’s head whip around in surprise from the corner of his eye, but hey, it’s been a stressful six months and if he’s picked up an unhealthy habit, it’s his choice, and not one Derek gets to be a part of. 

So Stiles steps around the side of the house, pack in one hand and fiddling in his pocket for his lighter with the other. He’s just lighting up when a painfully familiar voice sounds. 

“Since when do you inhale smoke for fun?” Derek asks. 

“Since I wanted to,” Stiles answers, puffing a cloud of smoke deliberately at Derek’s face. Real mature, he knows, but it helps. 

Derek reaches out to grab the pack from Stiles’s hand. Stiles lets it go without a fight, and hands the lighter over from his pocket. Stiles sees the tiny quiver of fear in Derek’s eyes as the lighter ignites, but he lights his cigarette anyway and gives it a puff. 

“God, this is awful,” Derek says, looking at the cigarette like it personally offended him. 

Stiles gives a humourless laugh. “Well, yeah. It’s smoke. It burns you up inside,” he says. Personally, he kind of likes the poetry in that. He burns himself from the inside out before anything else can. And hell, most days he already feels like a charred husk, he might as well make it true. He takes another puff. 

“I thought you wanted to live,” Derek say pointedly. His voice is unusually blank. “These things will kill you.”

“So, what are we gonna do?” Stiles asks, dodging the barb. “That’s why you followed me over here, right? So we can plan. ‘Cuz I haven’t said anything to anyone, and nobody’s said anything to me about it.”

“Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone,” Derek confirms. “I guess… we just pretend? For tonight. Tomorrow we can tell the pack, and your dad and Melissa when they’re back from their honeymoon.”

This is a terrible idea. It can’t possibly end well, not with the two of them like they are, but god, Stiles is willing to try. To let his dad have one good night without Stiles’s life throwing a wrench in the works, Stiles’ll do just about anything. 

“Just for tonight,” Stiles agrees.

_**Six Months Ago** _

The entire apartment sparked with anger, anger that Stiles was clearly barely holding back. The second the last pack member left, all healed from the fight and freshly showered, he rounded on Derek. 

“Before you start, why are you actually mad?” Derek asked, holding a hand up and hoping to stem the inevitable tirade of fury. “You’re fine, I’m fine, so why the anger?”

"We just got back from a battlefield, Derek. A legitimate battlefield and you expect me to be fine?” Stiles shouted, hands in his hair. “I’m not a fucking soldier, I didn’t ask to be drafted into your supernatural war. I’m only human, Derek. And maybe it’s time we stop acting like I’m anything more."

Derek can’t breathe. If Stiles was saying what he thought he was saying… 

“I can’t do this anymore, Derek. I can’t keep leaving classes and work to run to your side every time something goes wrong, and things are _always_ going wrong. I need my degree, I need my job, and if I keep this up, I won’t have either of them,” Stiles said. His words hit Derek square in the chest, carving out a hole and settling down there. “And Derek, I need to _live_. I can’t leave my dad behind, and I don’t want to die. Being with you, Derek, like this? It’s going to kill me. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it’s going to.”

He knew it was true. Everything Stiles was saying, every hurtful word that felt like wolfsbane coursing through his blood, it was all _true_. All things Derek had thought before, but pushed aside to think on later. And apparently, the entire time Derek had been saying _later_ , Stiles had been saying _now_. 

“I just want a normal life. And I can’t have that with you. We’re done, Derek,” Stiles said woodenly, the final nail in Derek’s coffin. “It’s over.”

Stiles left the apartment, nothing but his scent to ever prove he was there. Derek hit his knees, and let the tears fall.

_**Now** _

Stiles is laughing, and it’s better than Derek remembered. His whole face lights up with delight as he gives his best man speech, as he laughs his way through his favorite memories of his father and Melissa. Scott has already given the maid of honor speech, so when Stiles finishes, the official speeches are done. The couple cuts the cake, and Melissa shoves the slice into the Sheriff’s face hard enough that Derek is sure some frosting got in his ear. Stiles comes down to his seat next to Derek, and casually reaches for his hand to give it a squeeze. 

Derek silently thanks every god he can think of that he and Stiles never went public with their… thing. If he hurt this badly from just their hands touching, he can’t imagine how badly it would hurt to have to kiss Stiles or dance with him when they’re both the way they are. As it is, Scott keeps glancing their way in suspicion. Hopefully he won’t say anything, and none of the other werewolves are adept enough at scenting to tell the difference between pain because he and Stiles are fighting and pain because he and Stiles are over. 

But Derek knows the difference. He can feel it, raw and painful in his chest as he holds Stiles’s hand and listens to him chatter about nothing important. The entire pack is scattered around the yard, Lydia’s plan to give them full protection should anything happen during the wedding from any side, so Derek only has to worry about making conversation with a deputy, her wife, and two nurses from the hospital. 

The couple opens up the makeshift dance floor to some soft and sweet eighties love song, and when it ends and a more upbeat one starts, Stiles tugs Derek onto the floor. Derek’s heart doubles in time, he doesn’t want to dance with Stiles to prom music, to hold him close and sway and know that it isn’t real. He’s got to avoid this somehow-

It’s too late. Stiles has him in the clearing of grass that’s been reserved as a dance floor, and is pulling them together. Derek can smell him, stronger than ever, and it hits him like a punch. He goes to put a hand on Stiles waist, but Stiles stops him. 

“Still bruised from last week,” Stiles says quietly, referencing the fight they’d had with an nymph. Stiles had been thrown into a tree. Not against, into. Stiles had only just arrived home for winter break that day. 

Suddenly, Derek can hear the echo of the words Stiles had left with. _I just want a normal life_. He’d been right. So Derek lifts both his hands, one on Stiles’s shoulder and one held out between them to hold Stiles’s hand. Stiles nods, and rests his hand on Derek’s waist like a brand. They move stiffly, out of synch. There was a time not too long ago when Derek would wake up early on a Sunday morning and play music while he cooked breakfast. Stiles would stumble in just before breakfast was ready and let Derek spin him around the room to wake him up. On particularly soft mornings, Stiles’d even sing along quietly. Now, it just seems forced. 

But as they dance, Derek starts to relax. He knows he shouldn’t, that it’ll hurt him more later, but he lets himself imagine, just for a moment, that this is real. That the feel of Stiles’s under his hands is something he gets to keep, and that the smile Stiles flashes him is genuine, and not a hollow facsimile of the real thing. The songs get slower and slower, and instead of breaking off and getting a drink or talking to a pack member or any number of excuses Derek could use, Derek leans closer, and lets himself believe that Stiles leans in too. 

_Hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you cast…_ the sound system croons. Derek almost jerks to a halt, but Stiles keeps him moving. He looks at Stiles’s face for the first time in several songs. Stiles looks haunted, but his lips are moving gently along with the lyrics. If Derek listens closely, he can hear Stiles whispering along with Louis Armstrong. 

“ _When you kiss me heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose_ ,” Stiles whispers. Derek can’t help pulling him closer until Stiles’s chest is pressing against his own and their hearts beat alongside each other. “ _When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart, a world where roses bloom. And when you speak angels sing from above, everyday words seem to turn into love songs…_ ” Stiles’s voice peters out, but Derek picks it up. 

“ _Give your heart and soul to me_ ,” Derek choked out, trying to keep his eyes from watering at memories of the past. He can’t finish it though, and the sound system does the rest. 

_And life will always be la vie en rose_. 

There’s a moment of dead silence when the song ends, and Derek glances up to lock eyes with Stiles. He catches his breath when Stiles licks his lips, can hardly keep his legs under him when Stiles whispers lowly, “Want to go inside?”

Derek hesitates, but when Stiles bites his lip, he gives in and nods. Stiles grins radiantly, and how can anything that makes Stiles look like that be bad? They wait until nobody’s watching, Stiles tracing small shapes on Derek’s wrist, and make a break for it when the Cha-Cha Five draws everyone to the dance floor. 

Stiles leads them into the Sheriff’s house, slamming the back door. Derek wastes no time in pinning Stiles up against it and slamming their mouths together. It’s nothing like how they once kissed. This is hard and fierce, with no tender affection underlying it. Derek is as much punishing Stiles as he is himself, kissing him with more teeth and strength than he’d ever dared when they were together. Stiles just moans as Derek drags his lips and teeth down his neck to the suit’s collar. 

They don’t speak. Not when Stiles reaches for Derek’s tie with eyes full of intent, not when Derek toes out of his shoes as they rush to the spare bedroom that once belonged to Stiles, and not when they’re both finally naked and spread out on the bed. Stiles pulls lube and a condom from God knows where, and forces both into Derek’s hand. 

He slicks his fingers quickly and leans into Stiles’s space, hovering above his lips for a split second before plunging a finger into Stiles’s body at the same time he kisses him. Stiles gasps at the intrusion, but it quickly turns to a moan as Derek mercilessly shoves a second finger into Stiles’s hole. Derek adds a third finger, too soon for how much prep they’ve done, but he doesn’t care, and judging by the way Stiles moans, neither does he. 

The more they kiss, the more desperate Derek gets. He needs to be inside Stiles already, needs it so badly it _hurts_. Their kisses have devolved into little more than open-mouthed gasps with the occasional clumsy brush of lips and tongues. Finally, Derek decides Stiles is ready, and slides the condom on before pushing into the man beneath him. 

They both groan. Stiles is so unbelievably tight, Derek wants to lock inside him and never leave. Instead, he pulls out and slams back in, pushing a grunt from Stiles. Soon, they’re both lost, Derek pounding frantically into Stiles and Stiles gasping at each thrust. Stiles is pliant underneath him, but Derek is _vicious_. His nails scrape down Stiles’s side until Derek’s hands come up under his knees and push them up to Stiles’s chest to improve the angle. Stiles outright keens when Derek sinks his teeth into the side of his neck just under his ear. 

Derek pours every sleepless night, every failed bar hook-up, every day wasted wishing he was back here, every ounce of hurt and pain that Stiles has caused him into this. His hips snap in short, brutal thrusts that leave Stiles crying out and coming all over his chest without Derek ever touching his cock. Stiles’s hole goes tight around him while Derek speeds up his rhythm, chasing that precipice. When he comes, he growls long and low as he teeth sink into Stiles’s throat, drawing a cry from Stiles. 

He pulls out and tosses the condom before collapsing next to Stiles. The pair of them sit in silence, heavy breathing filling the silence. Derek for one is processing. He hasn’t lost control like that in a long time, and he’s _never_ brought that kind of hurt and anger into the bedroom. Not even with the one-night stands he’d brought home after Stiles left him. 

“So, we should talk about this,” Stiles says firmly. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Derek replies. Hopefully that’ll be enough to dispel any guilt Stiles might feel. Stiles will be able to walk out of here after a quick shower and put it all behind him. Derek, on the other hand, will carry this with him, both the guilt from being so rough and the pleasure-pain of having Stiles one last time. 

Stiles’s scent turned from the intoxicating blend of sex and exhaustion to anger. “What do you mean? It sure as hell didn’t mean nothing!” Stiles exclaims, propping himself up on his elbows and glaring at Derek. 

Derek sighs heavily and flops back onto the bed. “I just mean you don’t need to act like you want anything more out of this. It’s your dad’s wedding, you’re feeling lonely, or nostalgic, or whatever you need to tell yourself to write this off. Take your pick,” he suggests. 

“I- I wouldn’t do that, Derek,” Stiles insists. But Derek doesn’t want to hear any more. He can’t get his hopes up just to have Stiles shoot them down again. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Derek says before Stiles can say anything more. “You should too, when I’m done.”

“I’ll just use the master’s,” Stiles finally answers, and Derek gathers up his own clothes and heads for the bathroom. He needs to get Stiles’s scent off of him as soon as possible, before he starts to get used to it again. 

 

*

 

When Derek next sees Stiles, they’re outside again, having rejoined the reception. Stiles has snuck off to light another cigarette, but this time Derek doesn’t follow him. Instead, he gets hustled by Erica into the group of young unmarried girls waiting for Melissa to throw the bouquet at. 

The bride grins, and winks at Derek before winging the bouquet artfully over her shoulder - and directly into Derek’s chest. Derek catches it on reflex, and when he looks up, the first person he sees is Stiles, looking startled and outright pained. Erica hangs off of Derek’s shoulder, laughing brightly. 

“Better tell that boy of yours to get on it!” she jokes, and Derek forces a smile and a laugh. Erica gives him a suspicious look, but the Sheriff and Melissa are about to depart for their honeymoon, and that successfully takes the attention away. Derek makes his way to the Sheriff to offer his congratulations. 

“Thanks, son,” the Sheriff says. “It means a lot that you came tonight. I know it can’t have been easy.” He looks pointedly at where Stiles is finishing his cigarette over by the corner of the yard. 

Derek freezes. “I don’t know what you mean, sir,” he says neutrally. 

“Son, he tells me everything. Maybe more than he even tells Scott. He told me this just the same, and I know nothing’s going to get better until the both of you do something about it,” Sheriff Stilinski admonishes. HIs language is deliberately vague, a courtesy due to the werewolves who might be listening in that Derek is grateful. 

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Derek finally answers. 

“Good. Have it settled by the time I get back,” the Sheriff says, and then Melissa drags him away to the rental car in the driveway. The majority of the party follows them out, tossing more rice and cheering as they drive away. Once the couple is out of sight, some people go home, but most pour back into the backyard for more drinking and dancing. Derek spends some time thinking over the sheriff’s words, and finally he decides what he needs to do. He needs to find Stiles. 

Thankfully, it’s a small backyard. He catches Stiles’s eyes, and jerks his head back towards the house. Stiles nods, and starts to make his way to the back door. Derek rushes through the yard and into the house. Stiles is sitting in the living room on the couch. 

“You’re right, we need to talk,” Derek burst out. 

“No shit,” Stiles says. “First up, what the hell was that? Because that is not what we agreed on.” Stiles glares accusingly at Derek.

Derek growls. “No, it isn’t, but it wasn’t my idea. None of this was my idea. If I had my way, we wouldn’t be in this mess at all!” Derek says, getting progressively angrier as Stiles seems to ignore his words. 

“Oh? Please, tell me, oh wise one, how would you have prevented this?” Stiles shouts.

“I don’t know, maybe by not getting together in the first place!” Derek answers. He bites his lip the moment the words escape, but it’s too late. Stiles, who had been puffing up with rage, now looks deflated, like all the wind has been pulled from his sails. 

“You… you really wish we never happened?” Stiles says. He looks so small, sunken in on himself, with his voice quiet and fragile. 

Derek shrank down, and sat on the edge of the couch, just out of Stiles’s reach. “I don’t know. I know I don’t want this, though. It hurts,” Derek admits. “God, just _looking_ at you hurts.”

“I know,” Stiles says, not like he knows that it hurts Derek, but like he feels it too. “It’s like a hole, right here,” he says, gesturing to his chest. “I just don’t know how to fix this.”

“I don’t think we can,” Derek says. He clasps his hands and stares down at them. He doesn’t look up until Stiles touches his shoulder. Stiles has scooted closer to him until their sides are nearly pressed together and Derek can feel the heat and confusion coming off him in waves. “It’s been so long, and what we want hasn’t changed.” 

Stiles gives a bleak laugh. “I was never going to get a normal life, was I?” he asks. 

Derek shakes his head. “I think we both lost that chance a long time ago,” Derek says, his mind full of images of a burning home and a deranged Alpha. Suddenly, Stiles’s head is resting on his shoulder. 

“I want to try,” Stiles says quietly. “I know I hurt you. But I want to try this again, and do better by you this time. I still love you.” For the life of him, Derek can’t hear a lie in Stiles’s heartbeat. 

“I don’t know if I want that,” Derek says. “I know I want you, and I want to stop missing you. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t know if anything we do is a good idea,” Stiles confesses. 

Derek sighs. “You can’t just come back and expect everything to be the same, Stiles. Not when you left like you did. Things are going to be different, and you might not like it,” he warns. He doesn’t want to agree to do this and have Stiles back out because things were different than he’d expected. 

“I know. I thought I wanted a normal life, and maybe I still do, but I want you more. I’ve been _miserable_ without you, it’s been like losing a limb. I get disoriented waking up in my own bed, Derek, because it’s not yours. I can’t sleep, I just stay up and do homework or do research, because I miss you so much. And if you say no, I’ll understand. I just- I want you back, but I want you happy more,” Stiles rambles. Derek can’t help it, he’s still undecided but he leans over and kisses Stiles. 

This kiss is so much better than their earlier ones. It’s tentative, uncertain of its reception, but soon it melts into something warm and languid. It gives Derek a chance to relearn Stiles’s mouth, to remember the taste of Stiles on his tongue. Kissing Stiles has always felt good, but kissing him now feels like coming home.

Part of him is still afraid to try this, for fear of Stiles changing his mind again, but in the end, he knows what his choice is going to be. 

He’s going to choose Stiles. He’ll _always_ choose Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Additional notes on the prompt: She did tell me there had to be a happy ending, and if I did a break up (which of course I was going to) they were limited to seven months apart. So Brenna, just assume they go official within the next few weeks and I've done it.


End file.
